


A Wicked Tongue

by welseykels



Series: Dragon Age: Emmalee Trevelyan [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullenlingus, Cunnilingus, F/M, Smut, Standing Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welseykels/pseuds/welseykels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have no better way to describe this than: <i>Champion Pussy Eater Cullen Rutherford</i>.  The Inquisitor and her Commander sneak into The Herald's Rest for some fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wicked Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> [Check out my writing masterpage on tumblr!](https://welseykels.tumblr.com/writing)

She felt giddy with excitement as Cullen fiddled with the key ring, attempting to find the match for the sturdy lock.

It seemed silly that they were back at The Herald's Rest thirty minutes after they'd left, sneaking in like delinquent youths.

They were the Inquisitor and her Commander after all, they could stroll in for all she cared. But they'd needed to leave, to wait until all the remaining patrons had left.  At least that was Cullen’s concern, Emmalee would have been content to ask everyone to leave so she could ride her Commander on the nearest table, but his sense had won out.

She wouldn't admit to him, but the excitement of sneaking around with him made it even harder to not beg him to take her against the door or to take him in her mouth against it until he was moaning her name and clawing at her hair.

She giggled when she heard the key break through the lock of the door, Cullen shooting a heated glance at her over his shoulder.  She knew he wanted this as much as she did.

It had all started when she'd leaned over to him during their game of Wicked Grace, only the first that he'd agreed to since the night he'd wagered it all - including his clothing - but if this night ended like the last had, she knew he wouldn't mind.

Especially when she'd purposely sat beside him this time, so she could whisper in his ear when everyone was distracted by one of Varric's tales. Everyone already knew about their affair, even if they hadn't made it public yet. But it was still fun.

And she'd taken the opportunity of their bodies next to each other, at every chance she could. Teasing him with light touches of her hand against his arm, his shoulder, his neck. But it wasn't until she'd whispered, "What if you took me right here? On this table?", that his hand had flown to her below the table, rubbing her inner thigh, a dark look in his eyes as he moved upwards. Not close enough to where she'd wanted, but it had lit her blood aflame all the same.

Cullen himself hadn't been able to stand to fetch another ale for the remainder of the night. He'd even waited to stand from the table to leave last, letting their companions wander back to their beds for the night, delightfully light headed from the strong ale.

She'd been the only one left at the table when he stood, seeing the hard jut that had become the front of his breeches. He'd growled in her ear then that he wanted to bend her over the table, to fuck her until she couldn't remember their names, but Cabot had still been standing at his place at the long bar. They would need to wait. As much as they didn't want to.

He’d pulled the fur mantle closer around him as they exited, making their way to his tower.  There, he discarded the heavy pieces of armour, while she watched him from where she was perched on his desk, pulling her thighs together to combat the ache that she’d brought upon herself.  She was tempted to say to the void with her idea as she watched him shed the outer layers, leaving him in his breeches and the snug tunic that left nothing of his broad chest and arms to the imagination.  

She wanted him now.

But Cullen was a stubborn man and once an idea was put in his head… well, she would just have to wait until they were back in the tavern.  

He was the first into the semi-darkness of The Herald's Rest, the hearth little more than glowing embers. With a log thrown in and some prodding of the embers, a new flame blazed, illuminating the sought after table.

She settled on the wooden surface, the same as she had on his desk, watching him standing in front of the fireplace. 

It was when he turned back to her that she saw the hunger in his eyes; saw the smirk that came so easily to the scarred mouth when they were alone.  He was over to her in an instant, her breath already hitching and he hadn't even touched her.

Her boots were the first to go, discarded behind him as his hands ran up her knees, her thighs, her hips, to hook into the hem of her blouse.  He growled when he lifted it and he saw she'd forgone her breast band that evening.  

The peak of one breast was taken into his mouth, his hands dipping below the line of her breeches, finding she'd forgone the rest of her undergarments as well.

Pulling away from her, he cocked a brow.  "Naughty girl."

She'd been about to respond when her words became a moan as his fingers dipped lower, circling the bundle of nerves, his lips turning their attention to her other breast, his words mumbled around her skin.  "And so wet already."

She was on the edge when suddenly his hands and lips left her.  She whined, a pout coming to her mouth as he lifted his shirt of his head, revealing the battle made and scarred body.  

"Cullen, don't st –"

His mouth found hers once the fabric was discarded, kissing her hungrily, his tongue darting between her lips, tasting the ale on her tongue.  His hips beginning to rut up against her, seeking friction for them both. His voice was broken as he pulled away. "I want you naked."

Slipping from the table, she did as told, turning and shedding the remaining fabric, giving him the best view of the curve of her back and her arse.  She heard the rumble from his chest behind her before she yelped as she was scooped up into his arms and placed on the table.

"Naughty, naughty girl."

He knelt then, placing each one of her thighs over his strong shoulders, his hands moving to trail up the milky skin to the bottom he'd been admiring moments before.

"O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You would bid me.  Stand only in places You have blessed.  Sing only the words You place in my throat..."

"What in the bloody void are you doing, Cullen?"

"It's only proper to pray before a meal."  If he hadn't been looking up at her so earnestly, she would have snorted and laughed herself into fits.  But the dark amber of his eyes turned back to her sex, a finger lazily exploring the outer folds, and she could feel the heat surging through her veins.

"Please, Cullen."

He smirked before moving towards her, his tongue darting through her lips.  Her head fell back against the table, her hands clutching into the blond curls.  

He started slowly, licking up and down between the inner folds, before sucking gently on them.  Her hips tried to rub up closer against him, the pressure of his lips and tongue too light.  A large hand moved to her abdomen pushing her hip back onto the table, a chuckle escaping from his lips, the vibrations only intensifying her need.

His tongue flattened as he moved to the base of her sex, one long swipe past her slit and folds until it flexed and teased her clit with the pointed tip.

Her grip on him tightened as he moved back downwards again, lazily repeating the action.

"Cullen Stanton Rutherford, I swear if you don't speed up or go harder, I will – "

She lost all train of thought as he moved in, tonguing her clit in earnest, alternating between teasing it with his tongue and sucking on the hardened nub.  One thick finger ghosted across her slit, circling her before dipping in.  

Unintelligible words were falling from her lips, increasing in volume as his fervour increased.  

Sounding a million miles away, a door opened and she vaguely heard an "Andraste's tits!" before the door slammed shut again.

Cullen paid the noise no mind, her thighs pressed too tightly against his ears.

When she felt herself teetering over the edge once more, he shifted, his fingers taking their place at her clit, while his tongue moved lower to dip in and out of her.  His hold on her abdomen lessened as the hand that had been holding her down moved to cup one of her breasts, the fingers pinching and rolling the hardened peak.

Her hips began to move as he fucked her with his tongue, tasting her cunt as she gyrated.  His fingers pressed harder and the bundle of nerves and she felt herself topple, flinging her over the edge.

She was sure she'd screamed his name - or at least something like it, she wasn’t sure - the words barely coherent.  Her moans were almost sobs as he continued his movements as she rode the high.

She didn't remember him loosening her thighs from their iron grip around him, but when she'd come back to herself, he was leaning over her, stroking her face.

"You're so beautiful."

Her lazy smile shifted to a grin as she raised her hips to brush along his, feeling the hardness still encased in his clothing.

"So Commander, are you actually going to make good on your promise to bend me over this table and fuck me?"

She barely registered the heave of his chest at her words when she was pulled from the table and spun until her hands hit the hard surface with a smack.

One hand trailed down her spine, the other she knew was busy untying the laces of his breeches.  She heard him groan from behind her as he freed himself, the tip of him rubbing tortuously slow against her slit.

"Please, Cullen, please."

That was all he needed and he was pushing himself into her.  His hands dug into her hips, tight enough that he'd leave crescent bruises on her. She liked it, far more than she'd ever told him.  

He pulled back before slamming himself into her, his chest pressed firmly against her back.  She met him with each thrust, whimpering each time he reached his hilt.  A hand moved to her jaw, angling her so that he could claim her lips with his own, so she could taste herself on him.  

She knew he was close when the hand at her face moved back to her clit, rubbing until she climaxed again around him, her walls pulling him in.  The convulsions were enough to send him over the edge after her, spilling himself with ragged moans of her name.

They stayed like that for several moments, their sweat-slicked bodies heaving air as he rested against her back.  Her elbows were wobbly, barely supporting herself - let alone him, but somehow she managed until he pulled away, leaving her feeling empty.

He'd helped her get dressed, before righting himself and putting out the fire in the hearth.  They'd staggered back to his tower, still giddy with what they'd done.

The next morning, opening the door from Cullen's tower, an arrow whizzed past their heads, embedding itself in the wood. Cullen was already pushing her back into the safety of his tower - fearing assassins - when she caught sight of the parchment attached to the wooden shaft.

She pulled the message free before he got them back into the tower, the worry on his face disappearing when he heard her burst into a fit of laughter as she looked at it.

Crudely drawn on the paper was a stick figure that could only be assumed to be Cullen - what with the scribbles of fur around his shoulder and the slash across the line of the mouth – hovering over what could only be assumed as her naked body, a blot of green ink smeared over the left hand.

Gracing the corner of the page below the image was a scribbled note:

_One ladybits lover to another,_

_You might be shite at Wicked Grace, but I'll bet all your sovereigns that Inky thinks you've got a wicked tongue._

_That's better though, innit?_

_... Use it below my room again and the arrow won't be aimed at the door next time._


End file.
